


To Understand and Forgive

by keirajo



Series: Random Transformers Works (multiple generations, etc.) [14]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Depression, Love, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23778721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keirajo/pseuds/keirajo
Summary: Rodimus of Nyon and Megatron of Tarn have virtually nothing in common, they are absolute opposites in every way--and now they're being forced to work together on the Quest for the Knights of Cybertron.   But for every single oddity in the universe--there's a strange union of interests.And maybe even love.
Relationships: Megatron/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime
Series: Random Transformers Works (multiple generations, etc.) [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1250396
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	To Understand and Forgive

**Author's Note:**

> This has been in my writing folder since last September. I couldn't decide where I wanted it to go.
> 
> I hope you like the direction I took it in. *bows*

**_ To Understand and Forgive _ **

“Look, I _don’t care_ what you think, but……..” the flame-colored mech snapped, servos defiantly on his hips and he was staring up into the dimly-glowing red optics of a taller, grey-colored mech.

“ _Enough_. Your banter is inane, Rodimus—you say things that have no meaning or relevance whatsoever……” the older grey-colored mech retorted.

Ultra Magnus gave a deep sigh and literally stepped in to separate the two “ _co-captains_ ” of the Lost Light. He placed his large servos above the Autobot brands on both their chestplating and then pushed gently on both frames, pushing them apart from one another and making their griping with each other trail off as they both stared at the taller, red-white-blue mech with annoyance and frustration.

“The two of you need to get along while I am gone on the away mission to get us new fuel supplies for the ship,” Ultra Magnus said firmly, fixing both mechs with one of his sternest glances ever. “I cannot take you along, Megatron, because your disdain for organics shows in your voice modulating every single time. Rodimus, you absolutely cannot go, because the moment you open your mouth you are likely to offend someone.”

The flame-colored mech frowned, crossed his arms over his chest and pouted quite epically. The grey-colored mech merely gave a tired sigh and nodded at the Second-in-Command on the ship.

“It is not me you have to worry about, Ultra Magnus,” Megatron said in a steady voice.

“ ** _Hey!_** You _never_ have to worry about me!” Rodimus cried, trying to one-up Megatron even in this. Then the flame-colored mech spun on a pede and marched right out of the Captain’s ready room.

“Honestly, I _know_ I don’t have to worry about him,” Ultra Magnus responded with a sigh. “Just keep calm, that’s all you really need to know right now.”

“I _would_ worry about him,” Megatron said with a derisive snort.

“Not anymore. Without Drift here, he………. _mmmm_ , never mind. I’m sure he will be fine, you just may have to coax him out of his room for his shifts,” the tall red-white-blue mech sighed, shaking his head and following Megatron out of the ready room.

The former Decepticon gave Magnus a curious glance. The old Autobot soldier merely shook his head, not particularly feeling like talking about the darker feelings that Rodimus had harbored ever since the Overlord and Tyrest incidents. It showed as he hid in his room half-the-time since Megatron came aboard. He could barely be coaxed out for bridge shifts and even complained to Ultra Magnus once about “ _Why should I even bother?_ ”, since Optimus Prime took **_his_** ship and gave it to Megatron. The old soldier hated to admit it, but it wasn’t merely Rodimus’ usual pouting to get his way—the flame-colored mech had lost something he wasn’t getting back and he knew it.

“I am on my way and the team will be gone for three days,” Ultra Magnus said, firmly. “Don’t take the _Lost Light_ too far from here—we need to conserve fuel.”

“Understood, Ultra Magnus—have a safe trip,” Megatron replied, going over to sit down in the empty Captain’s seat.

Megatron was aware of everything around him, including the mood of discomfort that was suddenly in everybody’s fields the moment he sat down in the chair on the bridge. The former Decepticon Leader wasn’t on the _Lost Light_ to make friends anyways, so he didn’t particularly care how anyone actually felt about him. He only wished that Rodimus would _stop trying to provoke him_.

Optimus Prime took away the ship because the flame-colored mech had screwed up too many times and acted like a sparkling with a very big and very dangerous toy. The younger mech had deserved it, that was all—and he needed to stop pouting about it. But, then, something bothered Megatron about what Ultra Magnus had just said about Drift—whom he formerly knew as Deadlock— ** _had_** Rodimus been involved with the former Decepticon soldier, then? As far as Megatron had been aware of, Deadlock (or Drift) had been involved with Ratchet on-and-off for centuries………as a Cybertronian and as a Decepticon—and most likely as an Autobot, too. And Deadlock had been too messed up to try and juggle more than one relationship.

Bridge duty was long and dull, but Megatron processed reports, did some diagnostics, studied a few charts and waited at least fifteen minutes beyond his schedule for Rodimus to show up, before he made a tone of disgust and got up.

“Hound, please take the bridge command while I go and haul Rodimus’ aft up here for his shift,” Megatron said, firmly, trying very hard to keep a growl out of his vocalizer.

Everyone on the bridge looked at each other nervously and whispered things that the former Decepticon was quite sure he didn’t want to hear anyways, even as he almost stomped off the bridge. **_This_** was what made him angry, Rodimus wasn’t taking any of this seriously. This was exactly why Optimus Prime felt someone else should be in charge of things on the _Lost Light_. He stopped at suite 077 and announced himself and then made a light threat of getting to work now “ _or else_ ”.

“ _I’m busy working, go away!_ ” Came the voice from inside the room.

“It’s your shift Rodimus, don’t act like such a child—you have responsibilities now,” Megatron snapped back. He could feel his fuel heating and his fuel pump pulsing a little faster as he started to get annoyed—and just a few steps away from being angry. At least he had enough self-control to keep his anger out of his EM field!

“ _I said I’m working—go away, **dammit**!_” Rodimus voice cried, loudly.

That was when the tone to the voice surprised him. It was sad and full of loneliness. That did **_not_** sound like Rodimus of Nyon at all. Megatron put in his command code override and went into the room. Rodimus was on the floor, by the window, just draped over the small rounded sill. When the head whipped around angrily, Megatron could see the optical fluids streaking the younger mech’s faceplate.

“Is there something wrong?” The grey-colored mech asked, taken aback by what he’d now seen and the extreme anger radiating out from the flame-colored mech’s field.

“ ** _Everything_** is wrong, now go away or _I’ll shoot you_ ,” Rodimus growled, raising an arm and aiming the piping on it directly at Megatron. “I don’t care about the damn bridge and nobody else cares if I’m there either, _so just leave me the frag alone and get the hell out of my room_!” He snarled.

To try and press the issue any further would be to court a disaster Megatron didn’t want to be accused of activating, he just nodded, left and locked the room back up and then went back to the bridge. “Rodimus is currently unable to take his shift. I will cover his shift for now,” the former Decepticon responded.

* * * * *

Wasn’t that just his luck? Megatron showed up and he looked like a mess.

“I **_am_** a mess. I miss Drift………… _I don’t belong here anymore_ …………” Rodimus mumbled, burying his face in his arms again and crying even more. “Dammit Ratchet…………..why’d **_you_** go, too? **_I_** wanted to be the one………..and now I’d look really bad……………”

His memories flashed back to that day as everyone was recovering from the incident on Cybertron, with the Chaos creature. It was a mess, there were so many injured and Rodimus went to check on Drift—he’d been worried because the mech had stabbed himself right in front of them all. It looked like someone had attended Drift and he was recovering, so Rodimus then felt awkward about worrying.

But Drift had been really nice and said he needed someone to talk to, because everyone was busy. And soon the two of them were just talking about things. They seemed to get along really well. Rodimus found Drift a little weird with his spirtuality and Drift laughed at Rodimus’ fiery enthusiasm for everything.

Then Rodimus had seen the map inside the Matrix—as Perceptor showed it through the crystalline empty structure. And he knew…………. ** _he just knew_** ………..that the Knights of Cybertron were real—all the stories the oldmechs in Nyon had told him were **_real_**. And _they’d_ have the answers. The flame-colored mech **_had_** to find them.

A couple years and many deadly adventures later…………Rodimus just _couldn’t care_ anymore. He had to exile Drift for something that was _at least_ 80% his own fault, but Prowl _made him do it_. Ultra Magnus appeared to have been killed and then it turned out he had set his master, Tyrest, against him to try and punish Rodimus for _not taking the quest seriously_. He went to the Dead Universe and helped Orion Pax become Optimus Prime again. _And all for what……….?_

So, that Optimus could take the _Lost Light_ away from him and hand it over to Megatron. Everyone knew or suspected that there had always been something between the two of them, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that the Autobot Leader would grasp at leniency for Megatron—even though Megatron had carefully orchestrated it so that the Autobots had no choice.

And now Megatron was even wearing the Autobot brand.

Brainstorm tried to orchestrate a plot that would wipe out the war, Megatron’s very birth, and the trial the ship’s command crew gave the Autobot scientist basically just slapped him on the servo and said don’t do it again. Rodimus didn’t really want to do another exiling anyways and he knew that Brainstorm was well-liked despite what he’d done. And Ratchet tore into him for it.

Except Ratchet _didn’t know_. He _didn’t know_ that Drift actually was involved in the incident with Overlord—at least as much as Rodimus was. Drift helped shoulder the burden and Rodimus had **_never_** wanted Drift to take the sole blame for it, but Drift wouldn’t let him take any blame—spouting this nonsense that Rodimus had to stay with the ship and the crew and all of that. Or else the universe would end, or something ridiculous like that.

Now he was alone on a ship where _everyone hated him_. He _couldn’t_ have fun anymore. He should’ve gone after Drift himself. Instead of coming back on board, he should’ve taken some kind of speeder and gone looking for Drift straight from Cybertron—once it was stated that Megatron was to be given command on the _Lost Light_.

“Are you still crying, Rodimus? It’s been several hours and you are _exactly_ where I left you before,” an aggravatingly familiar voice said.

“You should not be given command codes, I don’t care what high command says—this is an invasion of privacy,” Rodimus grumbled, too tired from his self-berating and crying to even care anymore.

“When Ultra Magnus said I might have to coax you from your room for your shifts, I didn’t think he actually meant more than me knocking on your door and reminding you,” Megatron said, a little gruffly, walking over and hauling the flame-colored mech up. The flame-colored mech squirmed in protest. “You haven’t fueled. In how long? I want you to report to the medical bay _right now_ ,” the grey-colored mech snapped.

“ _Frag me_ ,” Rodimus whispered.

“Excuse me?” Megatron growled, very angry at the intimation.

“Just _do it_. I should be dead anyways. You killed me already, so what’s left? You can _frag me_ ,” Rodimus argued back, a little bit of his spirit finally showing. “I’m tired of this whole slagging situation. You and Optimus—yeah, go right ahead and take away the one and only thing that _actually_ belonged to me. Drift gave me this ship—it was mine. **_IT WAS MINE_**.”

Rodimus gazed up into Megatron’s faceplate, the blue glass coverings glowing fiercely with his optics cycled wide open beneath them.

“It was _mine_ and you all took it from me,” the flame-colored mech said, finally backing away.

“Rodimus, that was _never_ my intention when I said I’d be the one to find the Knights of Cybertron,” Megatron began, trying to keep his voice even and neutral. He found that he really meant it. He didn’t know that Rodimus owned the ship, _legally_ —he thought it was just a ship the younger mech had taken from the unused ships now suddenly laying around Cybertron with everyone coming home.

“ _Wasn’t it?_ Strutting around my ship like you now owned it, not one single person fought Optimus on that— _not a one_ and Ultra Magnus even witnessed the legality of the contract that Drift and I signed,” Rodimus hissed sharply. “ _Optimus Prime_ —the mech who can never do anything wrong, the hero of Cybertron. The great and powerful Autobot Leader who told a young and scared mech to blow up his own damn home and the people in it.” Then the flame-colored mech glared furiously at the former Decepticon Leader. “ _Your frag buddy_ gave you the last thing I ever treasured—and if you don’t treasure her as much as I have…………. ** _to the Pit with you_**.”

Megatron reached out a servo to try and get Rodimus to settle down—the air around him was heating up into a haze and that just wasn’t right. Then Megatron realized what was happening—just why Rodimus was excessively moody and hiding………….and it _wasn’t_ because his best friend and secret crush was gone. It _wasn’t_ just because his ship and command were taken from him.

_He was on the verge of a heat-cycle._

_This was **bad**._

_**This was really, really, really bad.**_

“Rodimus, I’m going to lock you in your room and get a medic to come up and see you,” Megatron said, flatly, moving past the flame-colored mech towards the door.

“You don’t have the guts, do you, you oldmech,” Rodimus chortled, folding his arms over his chest and his frame feeling like it was burning up. He was baiting Megatron and he knew it……….and he really didn’t care anymore.

“You are skirting a dangerous situation, Rodimus, _do not bait me like this_ —I refuse to take your bait,” Megatron growled. He had to get out of this room or Rodimus’ field and heat were going to get to him—now that he knew what was going on with the younger mech.

It brought up very unpleasant memories of the mech he used to be and the many other mechs and femmes he took advantage of in a situation similar to what Rodimus was soon about to be going through. Megatron was **_not_** that mech anymore. _He refused to become that mech again!_ He had reached the door and was about to wave his servo in front of the sensor panel when………..

“ _Yeah_. You’re pretty much like everyone else. You show just enough concern to look nice, but you don’t actually care about a person or situation,” Rodimus said, softly, almost too quiet to be heard. “ _No one ever does_.”

Megatron spun on his pede, about to argue the statement, when he saw Rodimus just staring at the floor, an arm crossed over his chestplate so that the servo grabbed the opposite upper arm tightly. **_That_** was a posture of depression and defeat.

“I _know_ what’s wrong with you, Rodimus—I’m going to go see if First Aid will come up here and try to do something to ease your situation,” the grey-colored mech said in an even tone. “Trust me, you definitely do **_not_** want me to try rectifying your situation. It would be a disaster and there would be nothing but regret for the both of us.”

“Like my life hasn’t been full of regrets……….like my life isn’t just Primus’ biggest regret in all of creation……..” the flame-colored mech whispered.

“Give me a few moments to speak to First Aid about your situation—you should try to rest,” Megatron said, trying to keep his tone more soothing and more gentler-sounding. “I will be back shortly with the CMO.”

Rodimus was left alone in the room again, but now he had no more tears to cry. He was tired and his frame ached and he felt overheated. Why couldn’t he just act like the way he was _before_ the whole Overlord incident? When this journey was actually **_fun_**? The way he and Drift teased Ultra Magnus all the time………..leaning over Perceptor’s shoulder until the Autobot scientist finally gave in and talked about the thing he was currently working on………..making silly observations and being cheerful all day long. _All of that was gone now…………_

* * * * *

Rodimus was quiet and only answered direct questions from First Aid when the small Autobot medic came to check him out. First Aid was a little bit intrigued, since heat cycles had been extremely rare since the war. Most mechs and femmes circumvented programs and protocols about it, stunting their systems from going into a heat cycle, especially during the war.

“I know you don’t like getting checkups, Rodimus, but why have your programs and protocols gone out of align?” First Aid asked, starting to put away his devices.

“ _Dunno. Could care less_ ,” the flame-colored mech muttered.

“You’re suffering depression, as well,” the CMO of the _Lost Light_ sighed. “There isn’t much I can give you during your heat cycle, you’d burn it off before it could do any good. As long as you don’t Spark-bond during your heat cycle, you should be good just to interface and get it over with in the next few days—Spark-bonding could trigger a spark-up.”

“Please, just come up with a legitimate reason for Ultra Magnus to execute me for, would’ja? I’m kinda tired of being here,” Rodimus snapped, hopping off the edge of his berth and stomping towards the window.

“Half of that is your heat talking and the other half is your depression,” the small Autobot medic responded, dryly. “Just ask someone to spend a few days interfacing with you. You may even feel better afterwards.”

Rodimus brushed a servo on the window. He wondered if he could get through three days of isolation and just hide out in his room?

“I can practically hear you wondering if you can get through this on your own,” First Aid said with a sigh. “You could _try_ , but I think it would be bad—for you and for your current mental state. I think there are probably some people on this ship who really wouldn’t mind spending a couple days with you.”

Rodimus shrugged and his head leaned forwards to just bang against the window. Then he waved back to First Aid and muttered that the medic could go now—he’d take the advice under consideration. First Aid gave a deep sigh and turned around to leave the room. He stopped to talk to Megatron at the end of the corridor.

“Will he be all right?” The tall and bulky mech asked, quietly.

“I am not sure. We need to put him on some anti-depressants, but we can’t do that while he’s in heat—he’ll burn it off before they could do any good,” the little medic replied, placing a servo on a hip and then motioned with his free servo. “I think he is going to try to get through this on his own, but I’m not sure that’s a good idea. A heat cycle is also a very emotional time, I think if he tries to get through it on his own, he’ll make his own depression worse.”

“I’ll see if I can speak with him and get him to see reason,” Megatron responded, nodding down at First Aid.

“Be careful. He could get desperate—one way or another,” the _Lost Light_ CMO said, softly.

Megatron nodded and went over to Rodimus’ room. He didn’t even bother to announce himself or ask to be let in, because he knew Rodimus would be argumentative and contrary to doing so. The flame-colored mech was just leaning against the window and the grey-colored mech could hear light sobbing. The former Decepticon Leader would never take advantage of Rodimus, but he knew that the younger mech wouldn’t trust anyone to see him through this. Megatron might be the only one who could pull himself away in the end—and he could allow Rodimus to keep on hating him, just as it always had been since he came aboard the ship.

“Rodimus, let me go finish my shift and I’ll be back,” the grey-colored mech said, lightly patting the flame-colored mech on his back. “You need someone who can help you through this—that you can be allowed to hate afterwards. _I can handle that weight_.”

Rodimus turned his face to Megatron. There were tear-streaks all over his faceplate, welling of optical fluid around the blue glass of his optics. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out, only a small whimpering-whining sound. Megatron felt a strange little twisting emotion in his Spark—the brightly-colored mech was _defeated_ , completely dead inside………..he understood what First Aid meant by depression. Rodimus was already so far gone into his self-loathing that he probably didn’t know how to ask for help anyways.

“I’ll be back after my shift. _I promise_ ,” Megatron said, warmth in his voice. “Why don’t you make sure to fuel up and take a nap? That way you’re strong enough to get through this.”

Then Megatron returned to the bridge and went to the ready room. He called Ultra Magnus and waited patiently for a connection.

“I’m going to undertake a suicide watch on Rodimus,” he said to the ship’s Second-in-Command. “Who would you want to work bridge shifts in the meantime?” 

**[His depression is worse than Ratchet thought?]** Ultra Magnus answered, briefly looking away from the screen and making a wave to someone off to his right. **[The medication’s not working?]**

Ultra Magnus was _already_ aware of this. _Ratchet_ had prescribed anti-depressants. Rodimus clearly _wasn’t_ taking them. He really was punishing himself.

“First Aid was certainly not aware of this, so I surmise that Rodimus hasn’t been taking his medication,” the grey-colored mech said, shaking his head. “I’ll be watching him in his room for about three or four days until his mood stabilizes out. Then First Aid can prescribe a new medication for him and maybe he’ll improve.”

**[Will he put up with that, though?]** Magnus asked, glaring at Megatron on the screen.

“I’m not giving him a choice in the matter, nor is he giving us much choice in treating him—unless we want to give in to his desire to be permanently offline, this is the way it will have to be,” Megatron said, very firmly. No matter how truthful he wanted to try and be with Ultra Magnus—revealing Rodimus was undergoing a heat cycle might be the peak of embarrassment. It would be best to mask that with half-truths and a cover of a suicide watch. To protect Rodimus from what was happening to him. Megatron wasn’t above lying to get to a particular ending that he’d chosen and right now, he’d chosen to try and help the younger, flame-colored mech.

**[Best of luck to you, then,]** the red-white-blue Autobot answered, dipping his head politely.

Then Megatron spoke with some of the command crew on the bridge and said that he would leave the next few days to them. Ultra Magnus would i-mail them new assignments while Megatron took care of a personnel issue regarding the co-captain. Whispers started, but Megatron could care less what people thought, knew or guessed—once he’d made his choices, he stuck with his choices.

Then he went to Rodimus’ hab suite. Making sure he brought some Premium Grade Energon with him—a full crate worth—and a small pack of Medical Grade, just in case. When Megatron let himself in, Rodimus was knelt back by the window again…….and was likely crying again. That wasn’t just his ongoing issues with depression, it was part of the heat cycle, making his emotions unable to be brought under control. The bulky grey mech went over and placed the Energon into the storage unit in the corner—which was empty of Energon or any sort of Energon snacks. Only proving, once more, _Rodimus was starving himself_.

“ _Rodimus_ ,” Megatron said, walking over and kneeling next to the flame-colored mech. He touched the younger mech’s shoulder, he was in recharge with his faceplate all tear-stained. _‘At least he finally got some rest,’_ the former Decepticon Leader thought, gently reaching his arms around the slender mech and lifting him up.

Bright blue glass-covered optics glowed dimly. “ _You_ ………you really came back,” the flame-colored mech murmured, the tone of his voice showing clear surprise.

“ _Of course_ ,” Megatron chuckled, softly. He set the flame-colored mech down in the chair at the marred and scuffed up desk. “I have Energon and I’d like you to drink some. It’s Premium Grade, so drink it slow,” he said, going over and grabbing a can from the storage unit. He opened it before handing it to the flame-colored mech.

“ _So……….so stupid tired of everything_ ………” Rodimus muttered, sipping at the Energon from the can, lightly.

Megatron leaned against the edge of the desk. “I claimed I was putting you on suicide watch, so that nobody knows what you’re really going through. I figured you’d be unhappy if anyone knew you were in a heat cycle,” the bulky grey mech responded.

“And you’re going to stay here and frag me, under premise of this suicide watch,” the flame-colored mech grumbled.

“ _That_. However, I really am here to keep you under a suicide watch as well as doing all the rest,” Megatron said, very calmly. “When you’ve stabilized out after your heat cycle, I want you to go onto some anti-depressants. I’ll order you to do it, if I must, and be there to ensure you take it every day, as well.”

“ _I don’t wanna_ , because if I do then I can’t……………. _can’t ever_ ……….” Rodimus protested, very quietly. “Meds screw up your systems and………..trying to keep mine pure and original so that…………”

Megatron’s optic orbs cycled open wide beneath the faded crimson glass-coverings. Was Rodimus saying that he was _actually_ trying to keep his systems clean and pure so that he could………… _bear sparklings_? That was probably the very last thing he expected Rodimus of Nyon to ever say.

“ _I wanna_. Someday, you know?” Rodimus said, looking up at Megatron, a strange little light of hope blazing up inside of him. “I know that it’s still not a good time, but if peace remains and we can stop running into stupid things and I can find someone who actually………….I mean, who _really, really, really_ wants me………..then I _want_ to. I wanna bring new life into this world, to show I’m not just………. _not just an angel of death_.”

“I think that’s beautiful, Rodimus,” Megatron said, smiling down at the flame-colored mech. For the first time, he actually felt some sort of empathy with the younger mech. “Then you _can’t_ give up and you _can’t_ give in to your depression.”

“It’s _so lonely_ , though…………at least, for as sucky as the situation in Nyon was……….at least I had all of them, I wasn’t lonely,” Rodimus mumbled, gripping the can of Energon with both servos, after taking another drink. “ _So………….lonely_ …………” he whispered, the can making a scrunching sound as he gripped it too tightly. He began crying again and Megatron felt a strange pang of protectiveness ripple inside him.

**_That_** was why he was so loud, so boisterous……….. _so obnoxious_. All he wanted was to get someone’s attention on him—someone who might think he was worthy of love or companionship or simply time spent with him. Rodimus was sad and lonely and desperate. He wanted to belong somewhere and to belong to someone. Megatron felt very sorry for the younger mech. Everyone made him feel isolated and lonely and he had simply been crying out for millenia for someone to look at him—they pushed him away and called him a pain, a pest and a waste of time and space. _And all he wanted was to belong—to someone and to somewhere._

“For a little while, you can belong to me, Rodimus—at least for right now,” Megatron said, lightly brushing the knuckles of his left servo against Rodimus’ jawline.

* * * * *

Afraid to ask or to beg for things, Rodimus just would mewl and whimper with his pleasure the whole time—clutching desperately at the larger frame taking care of his desperate needs. And he was always surprised to wake up from a recharge, whether brief or over a recharge cycle, with a frame holding onto him. There was a deep part of the flame-colored mech that wished his heat cycle wasn’t coming to an end in another day. He didn’t know what Megatron’s intentions were afterwards, since they’d talked about not putting Rodimus on anti-depressants, because he one day wanted a sparkling.

Megatron would have no reason to remain after this. Doing so would be awkward. It would ruin the tale of a suicide watch.

The rumours would be awful on the ship— _they probably already were_. Rodimus of Nyon wished he didn’t have to leave this hab suite ever again. People already thought the worst of him, he didn’t care if they thought he was Megatron’s little sex-slave—not if it meant he could keep Megatron’s companionship for more of the voyage. However, the former Decepticon Leader was already fighting against everything simply just to be here and wake up safely everyday—he, likely, didn’t want a little tag-along brat to take care of daily. Ultra Magnus would likely forbid it anyways and find some dumb rule to support keeping them apart.

“What are you worrying about, Rodimus?” The deep voice rumbled softly from behind him.

“ _Nothing. Everything. **Yeah**_ ,” the flame-colored mech sighed. “Can you make this last time really nice and stuff for me?” He asked, turning around in Megatron’s arms and looked into his faceplate.

Megatron’s frown gave an expression of puzzlement on his faceplate.

“You know. Pretend I’m worth something for the night, before you wake up tomorrow and leave,” Rodimus whispered, burying his face in Megatron’s neck-fairing.

“Are you going to keep _your_ promise? Will you be braver in trying to live, now—without me forcing you to be put on anti-depressants?” The bulky grey-colored mech asked, patting the sunbright yellow spoiler fondly.

“I’ll _try_ , but I really can’t promise anything,” Rodimus said, honestly.

Megatron sighed, very deeply.

“If I asked……….. _would you_ ………? _No_ , never mind—I can’t ask you for a Spark-bond just to get a sparkling from you. _It’s unfair to you_ ,” Rodimus began, then he cut his own thoughts off with stark reality. “Because there’s too much work to do afterwards on your part and………… _it’s just unfair_. It’s not like organics, where I could ask for a bit of your fertilization stuff or whatever and carry it all myself—we’re different and a sparkling means a lot of effort and care on part of the sire and the carrier, both.”

Megatron rubbed Rodimus’ back and actually took the matter into serious consideration. Would it be wrong of him to want some kind of legacy that wasn’t tainted by cruel fate? He knew that he was on the execution block and this quest was simply him prolonging the outcome, but if he could provide the universe with a positive legacy— _a brand new life!_ —could he be allowed to see such an event to fruition? If Rodimus were sparked-up, then they couldn’t deny a sire providing for the carrier’s and the newspark’s best interests. If his execution would legally come sooner, rather than later, he would be allowed to at least see the sparkling to term—for safety of the newspark and the carrier. It would give him just a little bit more time and he would see a new life come into existence.

However, could he burden Rodimus with the weight of his legacy, once he was gone? Could he burden an unconceived new life with his terrible past and depressing future? Could he bear to let a sparkling grow up with only a carrier and not a sire……..?

“ _Really_ , you didn’t have to consider it so seriously,” Rodimus laughed, trying to shrug the whole awkward question away. “At the end of my heat cycle, I probably couldn’t conceive anyways. It’s a moot point.”

He was shrugging it away, but Megatron felt the disappointment all through Rodimus’ EM field.

“Can you bear the weight of my past? You will feel such intensity if we Spark-bond and I don’t know if you could bear it,” Megatron said, phrasing it very carefully without actually saying that he would like to try and create a new life.

Rodimus stopped and thought about that for a moment. Spark-bonding would reveal parts to each other that maybe neither of them wanted to know. He’d come to know the worst of Megatron’s past, which he only knew by historical tales—and Megatron would see his own troubled past. Was it worth trying to forge a sparkling, to endure all of that within one another?

“It would be a year of you having to service me, too. Can you bear with me—fragging me and sharing Sparklight— _for an entire year_?” The flame-colored mech said, very softly.

“Well, judging by the past couple days here—I don’t think the fragging would be _too bad_ ,” Megatron chuckled, patting the sunbright yellow spoiler fondly.

Rodimus stifled his laughter by burying his faceplate against Megatron’s neck fairing.

“Wouldn’t it be something? _Find Cyberutopia with a sparkling in tow?_ What would the holy Knights of Cybertron think of all that?” The flame-colored mech chuckled softly.

“I’d like to know what _everyone back on Cybertron_ would think of that, too. They might hate me and they may dislike you, but they could **_not_** possibly hate an adorable newborn Cybertronian,” Megatron chuckled in return.

It was nice, this laying here and talking as if the two of them had normal lives. As if they had a normal relationship and were pondering an oh-so-normal future. Megatron had never had a lover where there were moments like this—it had always been desperation and passion and usually most were gone from the berth (whether it was him or the one he had been with) after the act of passion. For a moment, Megatron toyed with the fantasy of a normal life, a normal lover and a normal future.

But then there was **_reality_**. _And it was brutal._

“Rodimus, if you conceived—they could not execute me until we brought the sparkling to full term, so it would mean everyone on the ship would have to know this information. But you might have to go on after such an event without any aid from me and the sparkling might never know their sire,” the grey-colored mech murmured, lightly brushing his lips over the top ridge of Rodimus’ helm. “Is _that_ agreeable to you?” He asked.

“It wouldn’t be what I’d want, but I’ve been alone all my life so far—and I took care of those in Nyon when they were sick and dying,” the flame-colored mech answered after exventing a deep sigh. “I would give all our love to our sparkling, _no matter what_ , and I’d tell them about you. The good stuff while they’re young………..then the bad stuff, when they’re older and can understand better.”

Megatron knew that as of now— ** _if_** Rodimus had the sparkling to look forward to and to take care of—the mech could be trusted to live on. The flame-colored mech might have mood swings and go from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other, but he’d _never_ ruin the life of an unborn sparkling. And he’d look forward to having one person in his life who truly loved him, unconditionally. Rodimus would live for the future of a new Cybertronian life coming into existence, from his own frame. A sparkling would, literally, _save his life_ right now.

“Let’s go for it, big guy,” Rodimus said, pushing on Megatron’s chest and making the bigger mech roll over onto his back. He rose up and straddled the older mech’s legs and reached up to open his chestplate. “At worst, I won’t conceive and then it won’t matter……….but if I do, it will be _miraculous_. What kind of name would you want for our sparkling?” He asked as Megatron gazed directly at the glowing, brilliant blue-white of his Spark.

“ _Sunfire_ ,” Megatron said, without hesitation, opening his own chestplate.

“Primus that’s a **_gorgeous_** name—works for a femme or a mech,” Rodimus murmured, grinning happily as he leaned forwards.

When the edges of their Sparks touched, brilliant green and radiant blue-white, a miracle was waiting to occur in an as-yet undetermined future for them both.

**Author's Note:**

> My first day of being laid off......furloughed, whatever. This is really hard after working regular shifts (and some odd vacations) at the Library for over 29 years. We all hope the unemployment doesn't last forever, I miss the Library and my co-workers already. I can't file for unemployment until tomorrow or do all the other things that come from what happens after unemployment is applied for (my apartment and future rent and stuff like that), wish me luck. *bows*
> 
> I've been wanting to throw the sparkling name of "Sunfire" out there somewhere--I've had it in mind for a very long time, but I'm sure other fans have probably used it already, too. Plus, it also works as a My Little Pony name. XD


End file.
